


one, two, three (take my hand and come with me)

by The_Shame_Basement



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Choking, Chucklevoodoos, Come Inflation, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7425361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Shame_Basement/pseuds/The_Shame_Basement
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>because you look so fine and I really want to make you mine.</p><p>Cronus gets a little sugar from some very helpful friends.<br/>(please mind the tags!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	one, two, three (take my hand and come with me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScarletteFox718](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteFox718/gifts).



> Drone Season fill for ScarletteFox718– hope you like it! :)

So you’re masturbating behind a bush.  
  
This is not, strictly speaking, an uncommon occurrence. What can you say? You like being outside. The breeze feels great on your skin, and plus if you gaze up at the sky and rev yourself up enough, it’s not too difficult to pretend that you’re a human just like anybody else.

A human who just so happens to have some wonky fuckin’ alien junk going on down there.  
But you’re going to kill the mood if you keep thinking like that, so you adjust your position and sink down a little lower onto the peachy-colored human dildo you’ve brought with you.  
  
Aw yeah. The masturbating-behind-a-bush part might be old hat at this point, but doing it with a human dildo certainly isn’t. This is the first time you’ve been brave enough to use it outside (even though it's an out-of-the-way bubble and it’s not like anyone is actually going to _see_ ), and while the whole process is certainly a little trickier than usual, you’re enjoying it. Being away from all the rounded edges and trollian organic forms of your hive is a pleasant change of pace, and it’s nice to be able to let your eyes slip shut and pretend this is a real human wang in your nook. You’re aware male humans don’t actually _have_ nooks, of course, but you’re not nearly brave enough to take it up the waste chute yet. Oh well. Maybe someday.  
  
The fat head of the human bulge nudges up against a nice little cluster of nerves on your front wall, and you arch your back a little and groan. Ah fuck yeah, that’s more like it. You kinda got off-track there with all the musing and whatnot, and you just–  
Nnngh.  
You really need this. It’s been a while since you were able to give yourself any proper attention, and it’s frankly kind of–

  
…Um, wait.  
  
Shit.  
  
You’re pretty sure those were footsteps. Apparently your little grunt just now attracted some company.  
You scramble and manage to snatch up your discarded jeans, throwing them over your lap in a half-hearted effort to cover yourself. You’re a kinky fuck, sure, but you’re not exactly down with the idea of having someone see you like this.  
  
Turns out you cover yourself up just in time, because your company turns out to be Kurloz fuckin’ Makara, wearing this tiny smug little grin like he _knew_ he was walking in on you doing this. Like he knew he was about to just oh-so-casually saunter in on poor old Cro giving himself a little loving out here in the great outdoors.  
  
You go stock-still, and you’re fairly sure your bulge just retracted a little back into your sheath.  
Apparently it’s as scared shitless as you are.

This doesn’t really surprise you.

And he just.  
  
Stares at you.  
  
Smiling.  
  
Needless to say, you’re starting to get a tad wigged out here, so you force what you hope is a genuine-seeming smile and give him a jaunty little wave.  
  
“Hey there, ‘Loz. Beautiful night for a vwalk, isn’t it? Strikes me as a nice night to just. Keep on vwalkin’. Juuust… vwalkin’ vwherevwer you feel like.”  
  
He stares coolly down at you, expression unreadable save for that goddamn smile.  
Your own smile falters a little.  
  
“..Uh, hope this doesn’t come off as rude or anything, but I’m kinda…. up to somethin’ here. So if you could just, maybe.. y’knowv. Head on out?”  
He’s silent, but the corner of his mouth quirks upwards.

He looks thoroughly amused.  
You try for a chuckle, but it comes out a little more nervous than you maybe would’ve liked.  
  
Then it turns into a terrified yelp, because his eyes flash purple all of a sudden and there’s something forcing its way into the back of your mind, ice-cold and deeply unnatural.  
  
And–  
  
– his voice sounds in your head, but strange and slightly tinny like it’s coming through a busted speaker, and there’s almost this.. reverb on it, kinda, but like nothing you’ve ever heard before.  
It’s terrifying.  
  
  
_LOOKS LIKE A FISH BROTHER’S GETTING A LITTLE DESPERATE._  
  
  
You laugh anxiously, and go to respond.  
“Vwell, y’knowv, it’s not really– “  
  
_YOU’RE GOD DAMNED PATHETIC._  
  
  
Then he crouches down next to you and cups your chin in his hand. You try to jerk away but he’s _strong_ , and he’s got you in such an iron grip that you can’t do jack shit besides stare up at him and make these tiny little terrified whines in the back of your throat. Normally he’d just smile at you and walk away, and that’s usually bad enough.  
Except this time it looks like he’s planning on sticking around.  
To do what, you can’t imagine, but it sure seems like he’s got something planned for you.  
  
Then he stands. You basically shit yourself because he’s so much taller than you from here, good god.  
  
And he kicks you viciously in the ribs. Right in your gillslits.  
  
  
You curl in on yourself and wheeze, tears springing to your eyes. He’s wearing these purple combat boots with what are probably steel toes on the insides, and fuck, that _hurt_. Shit's _delicate_ in there, jesus christ. You can feel the bent filaments inside you.  
He barely even gives you a chance to recover before he’s got a hand wrapped around your throat, almost-but-not-quite choking you in a terrifyingly methodical way and staring calmly down at you.  
  
_WOULDA THOUGHT YOU'D BE A LITTLE HAPPIER ABOUT THIS. AREN'T YOU THE ONE WHO'S ALWAYS MOTHER FUCKIN CATERWAULING ABOUT HOW NOBODY GIVES HIM THE TIME OF NIGHT?_  
  
His smile stretches his stitches grotesquely.

 _SHIT, IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE A LITTLE BLACK FLIRTING THEN WHAT ARE YOU AIMING FOR?_  
  
  
Then he reaches over and presses the tip of a claw into the skin of your cheek.  
You try to jerk your head away but you can’t. You’re bleeding, and he’s rooted himself deep in your mind, and your fingers and toes are so, so cold and all you can do is sit there and feel the tears leak hot down your cheeks and fucking take it.  
  
…I mean, he has a point.  
He’s talking to you, at any rate. He’s touching you.  
You can’t remember the last time somebody touched you on purpose outside of a fistfight. Not that this is much better, but–

Well, you know. You were kind of getting yourself off just now, and your body isn't–

Um.  
  
Your body is reacting, regardless.

  
And Kurloz notices it, because of course he does.  
  
He crouches down so he’s at eye level, and his eyes flash purple. You shudder, and your hand moves on its own (???) to lift away your jeans and display yourself to him.  
You’re pretty fucking wet; way more so than usual, and your bulge is curling and squeezing rhythmically around the forgotten dildo for lack of anything better to do.  
One grease paint-covered eyebrow quirks upwards, and he reaches out and experimentally digs his claws into your grubscar.  
You can’t help the whine that escapes you, nor can you help the way your hips twitch forward.  
  
_WELL SHIT,_ he says in your head, and he does this awful creepy silent-laughter thing for a long few seconds.  
Then his hand closes around the nape of your neck without warning, and your face is making abrupt and painful contact with the ground. You squirm– he’s got you with your chest pressed into the grass and your ass in the air, arms stretched awkwardly out to either side, and it hurts and it’s uncomfortable and you want _out,_ but you can’t quite do anything about–  
  
  
  
“Kurloz?"

 

Oh _fuck_.

 

"… _Cronus_?? What on _Beforus–_ goodness, I don’t wish to potentially shame any consensual activities that may or may not be taking place here, but.. Kurloz, that may very well be triggering on Cronus’s part, and I really don’t feel it’s appropriate to–”  
  
  
Your face goes downright fucking ashen.  
Of _all_ the fuckin’ people to see you in this situation– jesus christ almighty.  
Why’d it have to be your only goddamn friend?

You can see it in his face, the way his lip curls at seeing you like this, the way his hands clutch into fists as he gets an eyeful of the situation you’re in. You’re getting one hell of a lecture if you survive this, for sure. You can tell he's disappointed, and that hurts a little more than you feel is reasonable.  
After a moment, it dawns on you that you should probably to tell him to run.

  
But before you can even make a move to open your mouth Kurloz has latched onto the thought in your head and _tugged_ , and you make this little choked-off sob and slump bonelessly to the ground.  
Your muscles won’t move.  
  
And–  
  
– and Kurloz is _in_ there, you can feel him deep inside your head like a puncture wound and it’s like he’s fuckin’ browsing through your thoughts, just flipping through memory after disconnected memory and every single one of them has in common the keyword _Kankri Vantas_.  He's grabbed onto your concern for him and using it to open up the deepest reaches of your mind, all your secrets and embarrassments, and now you’re trembling on the ground with grass sticking your cheek, and you can’t do anything but gaze helplessly at Kankri’s face with your blank purple eyes and let Kurloz lay you to waste.  
  
And lay you to waste he does.  
Before you know it, he’s looking through all the times where you got off to Kankri, and now he’s selected one of those memories (the one with the vibrator, specifically) and is holding it fresh in the forefront of your mind as he makes you roll over and climb to your feet.  
  
And then.  
  
Haaa, ohgod, no no no god no.

  
  
Kankri’s eyes go purple too.  
  
And your best friend Kankri, your stout pudgy little mutantblood friend, walks up to you and slaps you so hard in the face your ears ring.  
When he smiles, it’s Kurloz.  
Kankri’s smile is a lot shyer than that.

  
And– see, the thing is, for a moment you’re terrified out of your fucking mind (of Kankri, of Kurloz, of this whole damn situation), but then it just  
stops.  
  
You’re not scared anymore.  
Why would you be? You’re looking forward to this.  
Actually, you decide that’s one hell of an understatement. You’re going to _double fucking die_ if you don’t get this. If you don’t get _them_. Your bulge is lashing against your abdomen all of a sudden and your nook is drooling lubrication down your thighs (when did that happen? –scratch that, you don’t care), and you distantly watch your mouth open and hear yourself talk.  
  
“Please, Kankri, I need you so bad, I’m so vwet for you, _please_ – “  
He cuts you off, shoves you to the ground and straddles you with those perfect fucking thighs that you’ve thought about grabbing handfuls of for sweeps on end– but not like this.  
God, not like this.  
  
Not when he’s grinning down at you and holding your fin between thumb and forefinger and punching neat, even holes with his claw in a straight line down the center of the membrane (you can’t quite process this, even, you need those to _hear_ , this is so fucked up and it hurts _so much, god_ , there's blood all down the side of your face and it's horrific and you're crying), and definitely not when you’re squirming weakly under him and making these pathetic little mewls as your hips buck up fruitlessly against air.  
  
You’re downright aching for this.  Or at least Kurloz has decided you are.

  
Then Kankri leans down and kisses you viciously, all teeth and tongue and blood, and you moan into his mouth even as he sinks his fangs into your lip and tugs. You don’t like him like this, you remind yourself. You’re not black for him, he’s your _friend,_ he listens to you and gives you advice and he’s honestly a pretty great dude, this isn’t– this isn’t him, it isn’t you, this is Kurloz making you do this–  
  
  
But then something gets nudged inside your head, and you don’t remember what you were thinking about anymore.  
  
You just let yourself be kissed swollen and bleeding, and you let your arms be raised above your head and pinned there.  
Kurloz takes position between your spread legs (everything is fuzzy and indistinct but you know it’s Kurloz, because he’s bony and only a little warm, not blazing hot and soft to the touch like Kankri is), and Kankri shifts upwards until he’s straddling your chest, your sternum, pinning your arms under his knees instead and resting his solid weight on your ribs. You’re having trouble breathing like this. Neither of them seems to care.

  
You gasp when Kurloz pushes in, largely out of pain because his bulge is highblood wide and you aren’t used to, weren’t expecting that kind of girth. But then there’s another nudge inside your head and the pain gets worse, worse until there are tears on your cheeks again and you’re pretty sure you’re sobbing out loud.  
And then it goes away.  
  
Your head thumps back onto the ground.  
There’s no pain. Just– mmm.  
Just pleasure.  
It all feels so _good_. Even when Kankri grabs your jaw and opens your mouth and stuffs your throat full of bulge so much that your jaw aches, it feels good. It feels wonderful.  
You were made for this, you decide. This is why you were hatched. It feels so right.  
  
  
You keep making soft, helpless noises, and you lie there limp and let them use you. Everything’s a blur.  
  
Kankri grunts and comes down your throat, over your lips, making you sputter and choke until he pulls away. There’s mutant red all over your chin and your neck and your chest, everywhere. It makes you feel like a canvas, all pure and pristine and then made abruptly beautiful, worth looking at.    
Kurloz digs his claws into your hips hard enough to draw blood and fills you full of slurry, although there’s more liquid than your genesac can hold and so a lot of it rushes back out between your legs and pools in the grass.  
  
You pant raggedly and try to keep your eyes open.  
Then, after an indeterminate amount of time, Kankri’s between your legs, and you grin happily up at him with your mouth and lips all covered in material and your own violet blood. God. You’ve wanted this for so long, you’ve wanted him, and he’s giving it to you. He’s so good to you. You love him. You love Kurloz, too, being so kind and giving you exactly what you asked for. You’re so happy right now. You feel so good.  
  
Kankri snarls down at you (maybe he didn’t like you smiling at him?) and closes his hand around your throat.  
You can’t breathe.  
  
Shit.  
  
Wait, shit.  
You can’t breathe.  
  
Your gills are flaring under his hand and he must be able to feel it, must be able to see how you gape like a fish and grit your teeth underneath him.    
He has to be able to see it, because he’s staring down at you with this slightly repulsed look on his face. You’re dimly aware of Kurloz watching off to the side, and not even his most powerful voodoos could calm you down now– –  
   
Wait, holy shit, what the fuck is going on.  
Kurloz is here, but you don’t remember Kankri showing up or how you got all these injuries; you can taste your own blood, your tongue is bleeding, and you hurt all over and your genesac aches, and–  
  
What in the everloving _fuck_ is going on???  
  
Then, distantly, you feel Kankri’s bulge press into you, and you reflexively go limp again.  
You still can’t breathe, but it’s okay now. It’s okay, you’re alright. You feel so good. You’re meant to be here, you know it.  
  
Kankri’s bulge is thinner and not as long, but it makes up for it with how angrily it thrashes inside you, how it curls up against all those spots and flicks against you, and you end up coming hard with a raspy cry of his name when he loosens his hold on your neck. Your nook clamps down and milks him hard, and he bites savagely into your collarbone and comes into you, using you as his bucket ( _god_ , that’s hot to think about), and your stomach swells with the added material.  
  
You chirr hoarsely at him when he’s done. You’re so happy.  
You’re pretty sure he chirrs back, but it’s hard to tell.  
  
Because you pass out a few seconds later.  
Everything is black and sparkling and gorgeous.  
  


 

* * *

 

  
  
The first thing you notice is how badly everything hurts.  
  
After sucking in a breath at the sudden pain, you crack open an eye and wince.  
What’s going on, seriously? Why are you outside? The last you remember, you were–  
  
  
Oh.  
  
  
Oh god no.  
  
Oh _god_ no.  
  
  
You sit up– or try to, anyways, because your abdomen is grotesquely swollen with slurry. Christ almighty. You groan and prop yourself up on your elbows instead.  
  
Kankri’s lying unconscious a few feet away.  
  
  
  
God, no.  
  
No no no no no no no no.  
  
  
You remember it all, is the thing.  
You remember how you were out here, pleasuring yourself like a normal human being (and/or troll), and you remember how Kankri walked by and saw you doing it.  
  
And you remember how he walked over and lectured you about it.  
  
And you remember the exact moment his fist connected with your cheek.  
  
And–  
  
oh god.  
You can’t even think about it.  
About what he did.  
  
You feel nauseous. You let this happen. You let him do it. You're pathetic.  
  
He’s _right there._ He’s still here, he could– he could wake up, he could pin you down and, a-and use you again, he could make you scream in pain again like he did when he kicked you in the gills.  
  
Then he stirs, and you audibly sob, struggling to push yourself to your feet. You’re half-dressed; your pants are lying on the ground a foot or two away, and your shirt is stained with copious amounts of–  
god. You’re pretty sure you’re going to throw up.  
– of _his_ material.  
You can’t believe you ever thought you loved this guy.  
This fuckin’ abomination.  
  
He wakes up then, fully wakes up, and says “Cronus!” to you in this startled little tone, like he just met you in the grocery store or something.  
You can’t control the terrified whimper that escapes you.  
  
“GO AVWAY,” and you’re scrabbling at the ground to crawl away from him, scrambling for your pants and your keys and safety. “Leavwe me ALONE, you fuckin’– _mutant!_ ”  
  
He just stares at you, horrified, and you think he starts to try and say something.  
  
You don’t care.  
You’re already running.  
  
Your legs ache, and his slurry is drooling down your legs and soaking into your pants, but you don’t care.  
You’re running.  
Away from him, away from his hive, away from everything you thought you liked about the only person to ever tolerate you.  
  
And you are sure as shit never coming back.


End file.
